Though experts have pointed out the pervasiveness of violence in U.S. political history, this particular election—held in the shadow of the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection and marked by multiple assassination attempts on Republican nominee and former President Donald Trump—doesn’t feel normal. Americans can no longer take a peaceful transition of power for granted.
With even pollsters declaring the contest too close to call, Foreign Policy wanted to do something useful in the waning days of the presidential campaign. We decided to see if other countries might have lessons for the United States on how to navigate through such a charged moment.
Countries experiencing political violence tend to have two factors in common, Barbara F. Walter, a scholar of civil war at the University of California, San Diego, told FP’s Ravi Agrawal recently. The first is anocracy—“just a fancy political science term for a partial democracy” with elements of autocracy, Walter said. The second factor that Walter outlined is whether those partial democracies are “mainly organized around race, religion, or ethnicity and not around ideology.”
The stories from countries featured in this package are drawn from four continents, but you will recognize both of these descriptions—or elements of them—throughout. Before getting to the solutions for the specter of electoral violence that these countries can offer, we also wanted to assess whether widespread fears of violence around the Nov. 5 election are well founded. Robert Pape, a professor at the University of Chicago who studies Americans’ attitudes toward democracy, thinks that the country is indeed living through an “extraordinary era of political violence.”
Read on to find out why Pape thinks that support for political violence has grown sharply over the last few years, and keep scrolling to hear from regional experts about how Brazil, Ethiopia, Northern Ireland, and Sri Lanka managed to find a path out of polarization.—Amelia Lester, deputy editor
How Many Americans Support Political Violence?
By Robert A. Pape, professor of political science at the University of Chicago and director of the Chicago Project on Security and Threats
Americans are living through an extraordinary era of political violence. For years, political violence has been on the rise across the political spectrum—not just according to anecdotal examples but also based on rigorous long-term studies of a representative sample of U.S. citizens. Indeed, support for political violence has now become “normal,” at least when people are asked about the use of violence to achieve political goals that they also endorse.
Violent populism, meaning the violent mass support for a political leader, party, political ideology, or mass movement, on both the right and left pose a grave threat to modern democracy in the United States.
To understand public attitudes, the University of Chicago’s Project on Security and Threats (CPOST) has conducted quarterly nationally representative surveys of support for political violence and confidence in democracy since June 2021, fielded by NORC, previously known as the National Opinion Research Center. These surveys show that political violence is supported by determined minorities on both the right and the left and at disturbingly high and stable levels.
They also show that large fractions of Americans see the nation’s politics as broken and are deeply distrustful of the value of elections to solve problems. They see the leading political candidates for the presidency as dangers to democracy and believe political conspiracy theories about the malicious and corrupt behavior of the federal government. In other words, support for political violence is now squarely in the mainstream of Americans’ thinking and a normalized tool to achieve political goals when peaceful means fail.
The most distressing development in the past year has been a spate of assassination attempts and politically motivated mass shootings. In July, a gunman tried to shoot former U.S. President Donald Trump at a campaign rally and ended up killing a civilian and wounding three others, including Trump himself; the gunman was killed by a Secret Service counter-sniper. In September, another man was arrested for attempting to assassinate Trump in West Palm Beach, Florida.
The United States has also seen multiple attempts to assassinate or severely harm leaders across the political spectrum. In October 2022, a man broke into U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s home with the intention of interrogating and harming her; she was not home, and the home invader later attacked her husband. In June 2023, an individual was arrested while surveilling the Washington, D.C., home of former president Barack Obama with weapons in his van. In June 2022, an individual was arrested for plotting to kill conservative Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh.
By any count, the number of these events has grown since 2018 and appears to be higher than at any time since the rash of high-level political assassinations and attempts in the 1960s and early 1980s. Indeed, the last nearly fatal attempt to assassinate a sitting U.S. president was against Ronald Reagan in 1981, more than 40 years ago.
And it is not only political leaders and their families being targeted. Over the past six years, the United States has witnessed a number of mass shootings targeted at ethnic groups, such as Jews at the Tree of Life synagogue in October 2018; Hispanics at a Walmart in El Paso, Texas, in August 2019; and African Americans at Tops Friendly Markets in Buffalo, New York, in May 2022. All three aforementioned attacks were motivated by the right-wing “great replacement theory,” which originated in France but has influenced white supremacists around the world. The theory’s core idea is that elites are conspiring to deliberately replace the white population with nonwhite people—and the attacks were meant to punish and deter this outcome, as all three shooters explained in their manifestos.
The United States has also witnessed multiple instances of violent protests from both the right and the left.
During the summer of 2020, the George Floyd protests were overwhelmingly peaceful, but there were some instances of violence, including looting and attacks on police stations and vehicles, for the purpose of compelling local political leaders to “defund the police,” a goal associated with the left. These instances of political violence occurred in over 100 major cities, including Minneapolis, Portland, New York City, and Chicago.
On Jan. 6, 2021, around 2,000 Trump supporters stormed the U.S. Capitol—breaking through barricades, fighting Capitol and Washington, D.C., police, and ultimately hunting U.S. lawmakers inside the building—all in an effort to prevent the peaceful transfer of power to Joe Biden, who was president-elect at the time.
In the wake of the escalation in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict after Oct. 7, 2023, hundreds of pro-Palestine and pro-Israel protests occurred in many U.S. cities and on college campuses in the fall and again in the spring of 2024. And almost immediately, anti-Jewish and anti-Muslim incidents of violence and intimidation rose.
There is also the threat of domestic terrorism. According to statistics collected by the FBI and Department of Homeland Security, incidents of groups and individuals carrying out attacks of domestic terrorism increased by 357 percent between 2013 and 2021. This includes violence for ideologies across the political spectrum. While anti-government militias, white supremacists, and likeminded extremists conducted about 49 percent of all attacks and plots in 2021, violent incidents by anarchists, anti-fascists, and likeminded extremists rose from 23 percent in 2020 to 40 percent in 2021, according to the Center for Strategic and International Studies.
There has also been a rise in threats prosecuted by the Justice Department to members of Congress—targeting both Republicans and Democrats—for years. To understand more clearly whether the recent rise of political violence incidents is a real phenomenon rather than a product of a human tendency to exaggerate a handful of salient events, CPOST studied every threat prosecuted by the Justice Department to members of Congress from 2001 to 2023. It found that the annual number of threats increased fivefold starting in 2017—the first year of Trump’s presidency—and stayed consistently at that annual high every year through 2023. Targets were roughly half Republicans and half Democrats, as the graphic below shows for the most recent years.
What’s going on in the United States? The first step in understanding major upswings in political violence is knowing what the public thinks. As scholars have long demonstrated, well-functioning democracies and peaceful resolution of political disputes turns on more than the mechanics of electoral politics. They also hinge critically on public support for norms of restraint in the use of force and confidence in the ability of elections to settle disputes fairly. Historically, the more public support for violence, the more common and dangerous actual violence becomes—even in countries considered to be mature democracies.
The news on this front is not comforting. Scholars have long known that public commitment to democratic norms—particularly, confidence in the legitimacy of elections and restraint in the use of violence to settle political disputes beyond the ballot box—are crucial foundations for a constitutional government and to constrain elites who might seek to weaponize institutions for their private concerns. But CPOST’s surveys show that public support of democratic norms is not as high as we would like to imagine and support for the use of force to achieve political goals is at worrying levels—moving well beyond a tiny fringe, with significant minorities supporting violence for causes on both the right and left. Hence, it is no wonder that would-be lone wolves and flash mobs think that their acts of political violence enjoy a mantel of legitimacy.
The good news is that 75 percent of Americans surveyed still abhor political violence. Political leaders at all levels of government, community leaders, scholars, and the media all need to lean into the 75 percent, empowering them to speak up against political violence wherever it comes from. The United States’ political leaders and media figures have an especially powerful role to play. The goal should not be to dampen political enthusiasm, which is so critical for political campaigns. Rather, the goal should be to redirect political anger away from violence and toward voting. Americans should absolutely “fight” for their political future. However, that must mean electoral competition as the venue for nonviolent confrontation and not letting that competition transform into physical violence.
In the United States, the next national election is always only two years away—and all political leaders and media figures have a responsibility to stand up vigorously for these norms that truly safeguard our democracy.
Economic Devastation to Peaceful Transition in Sri Lanka
By Dushni Weerakoon, executive director of the Institute of Policy Studies of Sri Lanka
The conventional wisdom is that a growing economy helps the incumbent, and a weakening one helps their opponents. But the effects of economics on election outcomes are never straightforward. Sri Lanka’s presidential election, held in September, came in the middle of a steady recovery from a debilitating economic crisis two years ago. Despite this, the election results saw a political transition, from a seasoned politician who has previously held the post of prime minister on five different occasions to an untested candidate from a political party out of the mainstream.
Anura Kumara Dissanayake, the leader of the Marxist-oriented Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) party, obtained 42 percent of the popular vote—up from just 3 percent of votes in the last presidential election in 2019. It is the first national electoral success for the JVP, and to capitalize on this turnabout, the new president swiftly called for a parliamentary election for this November.
What seems certain is that, in the presence of widespread economic disruptions, changes in voter alignments and other unpredictable behavior can be expected. At the peak of Sri Lanka’s 2022 economic crisis and sovereign default, food and fuel shortages were accompanied by spiraling inflation and a tumbling currency—at unprecedented magnitudes of 70 and 80 percent, respectively. The economy has come a long way since. Annual inflation is at a low 2 percent, the exchange rate is stable having regained some of its lost value, and output growth is strengthening. Sri Lanka will likely end 2024 with a GDP growth rate of around 4 percent, double the International Monetary Fund’s (IMF) 2 percent projection. On these fundamentals, a reasonably speedy debt restructuring deal with bilateral creditors and bondholders has also been concluded.
But the message of a recovering economy was insufficient to convince large swaths of disillusioned voters. The crisis itself saw a doubling of Sri Lanka’s poverty rate. While the most disadvantaged people did receive some support, stringent austerity measures demanded by an IMF program signed in March 2023 hit hard. Public sector wage freezes, tax increases, and spending cuts ate into living standards already eroded by high inflation. Voters most likely asked themselves whether they were better off today than they were two years ago.
Whatever the proximate cause, harsh economic conditions sow the seeds of discontent. They also heighten legitimate fears of violence. In fact, Sri Lanka experienced a burst of violence at the worst moment of the 2022 downturn. Simmering tensions can crystalize more particularly in a volatile election environment—especially if politicians are inclined to lend a helping hand with divisive campaigns.
Despite the traumatic legacy of the economic crisis, Sri Lanka’s polls have since proved to be free of violence during or in the aftermath of the elections. In fact, the peaceful political transition was even more significant given that the presidential race was won on a minority vote for the first time in the country’s history. There are many explanations for this outcome. The first of these relate to the remaking of the JVP itself. Associated with two violent antigovernment uprisings in the 1970s and the 1980s, the party was keen to reassure voters and largely avoided acrimonious electioneering. The focus was on a unifying theme of anticorruption rather than the more divisive issues of economic policy or local government power-sharing arrangements. At the same time, the JVP candidate also diluted the party’s more traditional hard-left positions, especially on economic matters, to broaden the voter base.
The second set of reasons relate to the voters themselves. The economic shock focused the public’s attention more intently on who should be held responsible. This resulted in the political collapse, for now, of the Mahinda Rajapaksa-led Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna (SLPP) party, which was in power at the height of the crisis. Ranil Wickremesinghe, leader of the United National Party (UNP), stepped in when the Rajapaksas were forced out. Despite being the candidate responsible for rescuing the economy he, too, suffered an electoral bruising, belying the tenet of a stronger economy helping an incumbent. In addition, the widespread nature of the economic shock—across population and income groups—meant larger numbers who were ready to switch party allegiances. Those groups’ disgruntlement with mainstream parties, held responsible for corruption and missteps leading to decades of economic mismanagement, led them to an outsider candidate.
But while Sri Lanka successfully navigated out of a danger zone, an outbreak of social unrest need not be necessarily confined to the devastation from a sudden crisis. Unrest can arise from slow-burning issues tied into perceptions of relative economic decline—blamed on migration or free trade, for instance. Discontent finds fertile ground at election campaigns as seen in recent U.S. elections, where such issues couched around identity, culture, and security have proven to be deeply polarizing. In Sri Lanka, the challenging party was vigilant about avoiding inflammatory rhetoric. Such a concerted effort needs to be adopted by both parties in the United States in order to minimize the chance of disruption.
For now, Sri Lankans are relieved that this very consequential election and power transfer went smoothly. Peaceful elections, though, have not solved the country’s economic problems. The road to a durable recovery from an economic crisis and sovereign default is a long and hard one. The new president and his party will have to deliver on promises to improve standards of living, a fairer society, and a cleaner government if it is to retain the large numbers of swing voters.
On the campaign trail, all candidates held out populist promises ranging from wage increases to tax reductions. The JVP is likely to be more interventionist on economics, but the stranglehold of the IMF program means that promises can be delivered only at the margin by tweaking taxes and spending. A more thorough overhaul risks disrupting the program’s targets and timelines. If that were to occur, even the very limited foreign finance available to Sri Lanka will begin to dry up and perhaps turn out to be the precursor to another foreign exchange crisis. While the JVP has won a remarkable victory, Sri Lanka’s search for economic, political, and social stability continues.
Brazil’s Civil Society Deterred a Coup and Calmed Tensions
By Oliver Stuenkel, associate professor of international relations at the Getulio Vargas Foundation in São Paulo and visiting scholar at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace
A look back at Brazil’s general election in October 2022 reveals just how precariously the world’s fifth-largest democracy stood on the brink of political turmoil. Throughout the race, then-President Jair Bolsonaro spread unfounded claims of election fraud and disseminated disinformation aimed at galvanizing his most extreme supporters. But while Bolsonaro’s rhetoric echoed that of former U.S. President Donald Trump, his strong support among the armed forces and the military police—who harbor antidemocratic sympathies—presented a unique threat. Several generals embraced Bolsonaro’s conspiracy theories and promoted the idea that they should play a role in signing off on the election result—a proposal that was clearly unconstitutional.
After Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva narrowly defeated Bolsonaro, highway blockades by Bolsonaro supporters were erected in several parts of the country as the defeated president refused to concede. Numerous analysts warned of impending political violence akin to the Jan. 6, 2021, riots in the United States, as thousands of Bolsonaro’s followers gathered outside military barracks in Brasília and other cities calling for a military coup. On Jan. 8, 2023, a week after Lula’s inauguration, rioters stormed the presidential palace, Congress, and the Supreme Court in a striking parallel to the Jan. 6 riots at the U.S. Capitol. Evidence suggests the Brazilian military played a dubious role in the Jan. 8 riots, with several high-ranking officials accused of either tacitly supporting or directly facilitating the attack. U.S. diplomatic pressure—involving the White House, the State Department, and the Defense Department—is believed to have been crucial in deterring Brazil’s armed forces from supporting a coup.
Remarkably, however, Brazil’s national political environment appeared to have returned to normal less than six months later. Although polarization remains entrenched and political violence during recent municipal elections was high, the overall political climate has improved considerably, with the political debates on social media and leaders’ rhetoric decidedly less frenzied than back in 2022. How did Brazil pull back from the brink?
1. Rapid and transparent election results
A crucial factor in containing unrest was the swift and transparent reporting of election results. Ballots are electronic, and Brazil’s electoral justice system ensured that the final results were announced within a few hours after voting booths closed on election night, massively reducing the window for misinformation to take hold. While fake news continued to spread, Bolsonaro party officials were invited to inspect the electronic voting system ahead of the elections, so accusations of electoral fraud rang hollow.
2. Accountability and decisive legal action
Brazil’s electoral court acted swiftly to hold Bolsonaro accountable for his role in undermining public trust in the electoral system, barring him from running for public office until 2030. The case focused on a July 18, 2022, meeting where the president used public resources to tell a large group of foreign ambassadors that Brazil’s electronic voting system was rigged. This punishment not only removed the country’s most polarizing figure from the political landscape but also deprived the far-right movement of clear leadership, as Bolsonaro failed to groom a successor.
3. Combating disinformation with aggressive measures
Brazilian authorities, led by Supreme Court Justice Alexandre de Moraes, adopted a proactive stance against disinformation, temporarily blocking social media accounts that spread false claims about the election. Even influential figures faced censorship if they undermined public trust in democratic institutions. Social media companies were ordered to remove thousands of posts, sometimes with limited opportunity for appeal. Moraes’s aggressive tactics sparked controversy, with critics—particularly Bolsonaro supporters—accusing him of authoritarianism and undermining free speech. While the jury is still out regarding the long-term consequences of this unusual approach, these measures did prove effective in preventing coordinated disinformation campaigns from eroding trust in the election outcome.
4. Personal leadership to overcome extreme polarization
Leading political figures seem to have sensed, after the Jan. 8 riots, that voters were getting tired of extreme polarization. That is perhaps best symbolized by the cordial relationship between Brazil’s two most powerful men—President Lula and São Paulo Gov. Tarcísio de Freitas, a right-wing former military officer and Bolsonaro protégé, who might challenge Lula in the 2026 election. Lula and Tarcísio, how the governor is publicly known, have appeared together onstage on several occasions, and both have signaled their desire to overcome the toxicity that had become the hallmark of Brazilian politics for the past decade.
5. A political system that favors finding a common denominator—but at a cost
Brazil’s political system—known as coalitional presidentialism—requires all presidents, even those elected by a wide margin, to construct broad and often unwieldy coalitions in Congress. These coalitions frequently include ideologically diverse and even antagonistic parties, making it nearly impossible for any single political agenda to dominate unilaterally. While maintaining these coalitions often involves complex negotiations, patronage, pork-barrel spending, and incentivizes corruption, this system has the potential to temper polarization.
One key factor is the relatively low level of party discipline within Brazilian politics: members of Congress are not strictly bound by party lines, which allows for pragmatic alliances across ideological divides. A striking example of this flexibility can be seen in the fact that numerous Congress members elected under Bolsonaro’s party frequently support Lula’s coalition. By forcing competing interests to negotiate and cooperate, Brazil’s political system serves as a moderating force, limiting the emergence of extreme polarization that is often seen in more rigid, two-party systems.
Truth be told, the return to normalcy on the federal and state level is contrasted by a recent spike in political violence. In the first half of 2024 alone, Brazil recorded 187 episodes of political violence, including 43 murders of politicians and their family members. The recent municipal elections saw at least 88 physical attacks on candidates or politicians. Yet these generally have little to do with polarization on the national level, and they rarely involve high-profile politicians.
6. Civil society and the media actively sought to reduce the risk of political violence
In the run-up to the 2022 general election, various actors from civil society and the media played a critical role in reducing the risk of political violence by actively promoting nonviolence, dialogue, and respect for democratic institutions. Civic organizations, religious leaders, business associations, and prominent nongovernmental organizations launched campaigns urging peaceful political engagement and rejecting any form of violence or intimidation. One notable example was the Coalizão pela Democracia (Coalition for Democracy), a broad alliance of civil society groups that publicly emphasized the importance of respecting the electoral process and peacefully accepting its outcomes. Religious figures across denominations, from Catholic bishops to evangelical leaders, also issued calls for calm and moderation, urging their followers to avoid divisive rhetoric and refrain from participating in confrontational actions.
The media, particularly major outlets such as O Globo, Folha de S. Paulo, and O Estado de S. Paulo, contributed by closely monitoring and debunking disinformation that could incite unrest. Through investigative journalism, they highlighted attempts to discredit the electronic voting system and revealed plots that sought to undermine public trust in the electoral process. Fact-checking initiatives like Agência Lupa and Aos Fatos partnered with social media platforms to counter viral falsehoods, ensuring voters had access to accurate information.
Business leaders and industry associations also issued statements advocating for stability and reinforcing that political differences should be resolved through dialogue rather than violence. Public figures, including artists and intellectuals, organized events and campaigns under the banner of democracy, urging voters to respect the results regardless of personal preferences. These efforts culminated in high-profile initiatives such as a letter in defense of democracy that was signed by more than a million citizens, including prominent figures from academia, culture, and the judiciary.
Together, these actors—through advocacy, information campaigns, and public appeals—helped create a social climate where violence became less acceptable as a political tool. Their efforts not only promoted respect for the electoral process but also fostered a sense of collective responsibility for maintaining peace, reducing the likelihood of large-scale unrest despite the tense political atmosphere. Quick and transparent results, holding political actors accountable, curbing disinformation, and fostering cross-party collaboration are tools that any democracy can use to defuse tensions.
Winning and Losing Well in Divided African Democracies
By Adem Kassie Abebe, vice president of the African Network of Constitutional Lawyers
For many parts of the world, elections are not unadulterated celebrations of democracy. In much of Africa, elections can be an anxious, and even violent, ritual. In 2007, then-Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo quipped that elections are “do-or-die affairs.”
Whether or not elections will turn violent primarily depends on the consent of the losers.
The losers’ consent, in turn, depends on their belief in democracy, as well as trust in the credibility and fairness of the democratic system. The losers must believe that the victor won fair and square, and, crucially, that the winner will not seek to take undue advantage of the victory to reward loyalists and punish detractors.
As the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol shows, election violence is not simply the exclusive preserve of what Donald Trump derisively called “shithole countries.” Indeed, as a polarized U.S. electorate enters a knife-edge election, Americans could stand to learn a lot from Africa.
Ethiopia offers one cautionary tale. In the run-up to its 2020 general election (which was ultimately postponed to 2021), the ruling party was accused of using the security apparatus and other state institutions to dismantle the opposition in key regions where it could potentially lose, including Tigray and Oromia, where Prime MinisterAhmed is from.
Some of the opposition candidates were murdered by unknown assailants. Opposition parties therefore lost not only confidence in the fairness of the election, but also in the commitment of the ruling party to govern fairly. This forced key opposition parties to boycott the election. A loss of confidence in peaceful electoral processes then led to a surge for support for groups that resorted to armed struggle to advance their causes.
Ethiopia also offers some lessons in how the broader political framework can undermine electoral credibility and increase the chances of violence. Ethnic identity is the foundation of the country’s constitutional and political framework, and there has long been a rivalry between the largest groups: Oromo, Amhara, Somali, and Tigrayan. This has led to intense competition both within and between ethnic groups. To outbid competing parties within the same ethnic group, ethnic factions tend to take extreme positions, often defined in reference to other (enemy) groups. In particular, politics in Oromia has been defined by strong anti-Amhara sentiment.
The pivot toward identity politics, formally or informally, heightens electoral rhetoric and the possibilities for violent struggle to advance political objectives. Ethiopia’s government postponed the 2020 elections, citing the COVID-19 pandemic, but the postponement was contested by some groups. Because there is no effective electoral dispute resolution mechanism, what should have been a difficult but ultimately technical issue of constitutional interpretation turned out to be a prelude to Africa’s biggest war in recent memory, pitting the federal government and its allies against the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). The electoral postponement proved to be the last stroke of intense rivalry between Abiy, Ethiopia’s new strongman, and the TPLF, the deposed party that dominated the previous regime.
In Gambia, the fracturing of an opposition coalition, which came together to unseat President Yahya Jammeh in the 2016 presidential election, increased tensions and threats of violence in the run-up to the 2021 election. In light of this, the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance facilitated the development of a code of conduct for all presidential candidates, including a commitment to publicly denounce violence and intimidation. This contributed to a relatively calm political environment. The presence of eminent national guarantors and a strong partnership with civil society organizations to monitor compliance with the code of conduct strengthened its effectiveness.
The role of guarantors and civil society is critical, as a similar approach in the 2023 Nigerian presidential election—which lacked guarantors and a civil society partnership—had limited impact on enhancing trust in the electoral process and in reducing violence and intimidation.
Nigeria, Africa’s most populous democracy, has witnessed repeated alternations of parties and presidential power. But elections continue to be precarious and violent experiences, with electoral costs rising while the quality of the elections seems to be diminishing, leading to a crisis of confidence in the electoral process and low voter turnout. In Nigeria’s 2023 election, only 27 percent of eligible voters cast a ballot.
Local community-based initiatives can also enhance confidence in the election process and management, as well as improve relations between the public and local election and security actors, reducing the chances of violence—even when national elites resort to divisive and violent rhetoric.
In addition, to reduce people’s susceptibility to violence, it is crucial to promote the electoral system to ensure that the rules, institutions, and systems are known and clearly understood.
Ultimately, the prevention of electoral violence in an age of social media and populist rhetoric depends on the perception of fairness of not only the elections, but also the broad political framework. If the sense of satisfaction with the political system is high, the possibilities for violence are likely to be low. This requires designing legitimate electoral and political systems (starting from the primaries that incentivize moderation) and constant vigilance to nurture and reinforce a civic-minded citizenry, which is the foundation of an improved infrastructure of peace and democracy.
Elections are not good ways of resolving fundamental differences and can be destabilizing in contexts where the rules of the game and historical narratives are contested. Therefore, it is crucial to first resolve foundational disputes, such as autonomy of distinct groups and the federal structure of the state through broad dialogue in a manner that avoids winner-takes-all politics, and rely on elections to resolve second-order policy differences like tax rates and immigration policy.
The dilemma is that constitutional features that reduce winner-takes-all politics, such as proportional electoral systems, checks and balances, power-sharing mechanisms, and relatively autonomous and apolitical bureaucracy, are often attacked by populist leaders on the grounds that such measures stand in the way of the majority’s will and that only they can genuinely represent the people’s will. Violent rhetoric may therefore become a deliberate populist strategy.
And violence cascades down from the top. The narrative of violence often starts with elite attacks on the credibility of the elections and even the broader democratic system. To reduce the chances of violence, it can help to push political leaders (and major media institutions) to abide by a set of agreements (codes of conduct) regarding inflammatory rhetoric and fair media coverage. Identifying risks, along with preventing and mitigating political violence, must be a fundamental and continuous endeavor.
It is not simply what happens on the day of an election that matters for electoral violence. The broader system determines the tolerance of losing political groups and candidates; it determines the level of protection that losers will receive, including rewards for the political minority that increase the chances of acceptance of electoral outcomes. In fact, if the system does not enjoy broad buy-in, elections may be seen as legitimizing and reinforcing an unfair system.
In places where the electoral stakes are so high and the strength of democratic institutions is low because of the winner-takes-all nature of the political framework, political competition is not merely to set policy, but to capture the state apparatus. In such contexts, the incentives to resort to overpromising, vote-buying, voter suppression, intimidation, and violence are high, both for ruling and opposition parties. Such winner-take-all systems are incompatible with free, fair, and credible elections. Accordingly, all committed democracies need to shun such systems and instead seek to enhance the protection of minorities, transparency, and inclusiveness in their electoral systems.
A Cautionary Tale From Northern Ireland About Public Safety
By Daniel Finn, features editor for Jacobin and author of One Man’s Terrorist: A Political History of the IRA
If the United States was to experience a descent into political violence comparable to the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the results would be catastrophic. Between the late 1960s and the late 1990s, the conflict claimed 3,500 lives in a region with a population of about 1.5 million. Adjusted for population size, this would be the equivalent of more than 700,000 deaths in the present-day United States. But even political violence on a smaller scale raises an important question about the state security forces tasked with upholding the law. Can they be relied upon to do so without taking sides in a bitterly polarized environment?
Northern Ireland offers an important and disturbing case study in how far those who are supposed to protect ordinary citizens from harm can themselves become a threat to public safety. The British security forces during the Troubles were divided into several parts. Members of the regular police force, known as the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), routinely bore arms while on duty, unlike their counterparts in Britain. They were supported by soldiers from the British Army and by a part-time militia, the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR). Members of the RUC and the UDR were overwhelmingly recruited from within Northern Ireland, with the vast majority coming from the Protestant-unionist community.
These forces had to deal with paramilitary groups that challenged the authority of the state. The Irish Republican Army (IRA) carried out attacks on the security forces, killing hundreds of soldiers and police officers as part of its campaign for a British withdrawal from Northern Ireland. The loyalist paramilitaries of the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Ulster Defence Association (UDA), on the other hand, accused the security forces of not doing enough to combat the IRA and took the law unapologetically into their own hands. Although the IRA was their declared adversary, in practice, the loyalist groups generally targeted civilians from the Catholic-nationalist community. About 85 percent of those killed by loyalists were civilians; the equivalent figure for republicans was 35 percent.
The security forces and their political masters in London always insisted that they were upholding the rule of law in Northern Ireland against all those who sought to undermine it. But there was clear evidence of double standards in their approach to republican and loyalist paramilitaries. To begin with, the British authorities allowed the UDA to remain a legal organization for two decades until it was finally banned in 1992. In the 1970s, it was official policy to permit members of the UDA to join the UDR. A memo from the British Army’s headquarters in Northern Ireland circulated in 1972 stated that the UDA was “a large organization not all of whose members can be regarded as dangerous extremists,” and that it would be “counter-productive to discharge a UDR member on the grounds that he is a member of the UDA.”
During the ’70s, serving members of the RUC and the UDR formed part of the so-called Glenanne gang, a loyalist militia responsible for some of the most notorious atrocities of the time, including the bombings that killed 33 people in Dublin and Monaghan in 1974. Some of the killings by the Glenanne gang were investigated by the Historical Enquiries Team (HET) of the RUC’s successor force, the Police Service of Northern Ireland. The HET report noted a widespread belief among relatives of the gang’s victims that the RUC did not investigate its activities properly at the time, “in a deliberate effort to conceal security forces’ involvement and perpetuate a campaign of terror by loyalist paramilitaries.” The HET declared itself to be “unable to rebut or allay these suspicions,” having identified “disturbing omissions and the lack of any structured investigative strategy,” not to mention “indisputable evidence” of collusion between loyalist paramilitaries and members of the security forces that should have “rung alarm bells all the way to the top of Government.”
At this point, only people who are willing to ignore the vast amount of evidence from official sources in the public domain can still deny the existence of large-scale collusion between loyalist paramilitaries and the state forces in Northern Ireland. This story unfolded in a West European state renowned for its long, unbroken tradition of constitutional government, in contrast with neighbors such as France, Spain, and Germany. It should stand as a permanent warning of how far those responsible for enforcing the law can deviate from their stated mission in the face of a political crisis.
The reports produced by various official bodies since the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, including the HET and the Police Ombudsman, have greatly added to our knowledge of collusion during the Troubles. However, these revelations did not come out of nowhere: Members of the nationalist community and their political representatives repeatedly leveled charges of collusion against the security forces while it was taking place, only to have those charges dismissed as slanderous conspiracy theories by successive British governments.
This was when, as the HET later pointed out, there was “indisputable evidence” of what was happening available to the politicians and civil servants responsible for governing Northern Ireland. Government officials kept that evidence hidden from the public at a time when it was most important for it to be widely known and discussed. The institutions capable of investigating collusion and other abuses were only created after the conflict was over (and even then, they have faced many forms of obstruction from the highest levels of the British state).
Northern Ireland’s experience drives home a lesson that should be familiar from many other countries and conflicts: Those in positions of power simply cannot be trusted to scrutinize themselves, least of all in the middle of a full-blown conflict. Only the existence of genuinely independent bodies can hold those in power accountable and serve as a check on abuses like the kind we saw during the Troubles.
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